


rendering death and forever

by musicforswimming



Category: Lord of the Rings (2001 2002 2003)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, F/M, M/M, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-06-14
Updated: 2004-06-14
Packaged: 2017-10-20 04:28:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/208731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicforswimming/pseuds/musicforswimming
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arwen will change their fate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	rendering death and forever

**Author's Note:**

  * For [casapazzo](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=casapazzo).



And suddenly, one light in her sky was burning out.

Arwen bit back screams and sobs, not wanting to further distress the man who lay dying. She wondered that her hands did not shake as she touched him once more, once again, and she would almost have prolonged his death simply that she might have enough last touches.

He had always loved her for her calm, and now, it seemed, she could find no peace.

Arwen leaned over, and she kissed Boromir's brow. He smiled weakly, his lips shaking in the act. "My Lady," he said softly, then, with a glance at Aragorn, "my Queen."

Arwen smiled at him through her own tears, and took his other hand in her own, for Aragorn held the one already. She leaned down again and whispered some words in the Common Tongue, too intimately for Aragorn to understand. Boromir frowned, slightly, hardly comprehending, and gave another shuddering breath, smiling, frightened, at them both as his eyes fell closed. Aragorn and Arwen looked at one another now, briefly, and both of them were weeping. She was hardly conscious of the sound of footsteps as Gimli came upon them.

She pressed the hand -- still warm! -- to her lips, her shaking lips, and a few tears landed on the skin. Aragorn, she noticed without seeing, was kissing Boromir's brow.

A torpid pulse yet lingered beneath Boromir's skin. She focused on this, felt it as a surge of water, some weak current, beneath her fingers. The riptide already dragged her far from the shore she knew, though yet she would return.

"Take the arrows out," she said softly, and in the Common Tongue. "Take them out, and dress his wounds."

"Arwen," Aragorn began, and she shook her head.

"Do it." When she spoke, it was as a wave against some storm-blasted shore, spraying, cold, and when she opened her eyes again, they met his, which were clear even from the distance, the gulf that she could feel widening between them.

"Arwen," and there was some panic in Aragorn's hushed, aching voice, though he did as she bade and began, carefully, to pull the arrows out, "please, tell me what you mean to do."

Her eyes fell closed then, so heavy with the depths, and with a faltering, sluggish tongue, she sang the words that had hanted her since first she had laid eyes on this Man. "'And yet at last they met once more... '"

She heard him react, vaguely, as the sea she felt rising about her bore her further from his shore. He was coming to realize what it was that she meant, to understand that the path she meant to tread would lead her to a place he could not follow her to -- a place that, once he reached it, he could not return from. She heard him, vaguely, heard him beg, and realized through a fog that he had grabbed her hand, that he was squeezing it and whispering, begging, pleading, and even cursing in her native tongue. But she knew all this only distantly, as though she were watching it all while a stiff wind bore her across the sundering Sea.

There was cold fog all around her, smelling of the sea.

The doors of the Hall were heavy, were closed against her, and there was a rocky shore behind her. As she turned away from the doors for a moment, she noticed a movement, and found that she was standing next to Boromir, who stared at her, disbelievingly.

"I thought you told me... " he began, and faltered.

She managed a smile, and touched his hand, and wondered that all of this felt so real. "I told you to wait for me here," she confirmed gently. "Do you know the tale," she asked, "of Luthien the elf-maiden and her lover Beren?"

There was no sign of movement from the Hall yet, and so they sat. Boromir picked up a rock and threw it into the waves, where it splashed with cream-colored foam against the leaden green. "A little," he said. "My brother knows more of the Elvish tales than I," he went on, and she could tell that he knew enough of the tale, for he did not look at her.

There was cold fog all around them, smelling of the sea.

Arwen could not guess how long they passed in silence, until, finally, carefully, Boromir took her hand in his own. It seemed by turns rough and hard and then, for a flash, smooth and young again, and she wondered that time turned such tricks in this place. "Do you believe," he began, and his voice trembled, and he stopped again. They passed more time in silence -- as before, she could not say how much. At last, "You think me worthy of that?" he asked, and looked away in frustration as his voice gave the slightest shake again.

"Why should I not?" Arwen answered calmly, and did not stir to look away or move her hand in his own.

"I broke my word," Boromir managed, raw.

"You vowed to love me," Arwen answered simply, "and I can see your heart, and know that you have not broken that word."

"I am a traitor," Boromir said, broken, looking down at the rocks beside him.

Arwen looked up then, and raised her free hand to his cheek, and guided his chin until his forehead rested against her own. "I -- " she began, and found that she faltered herself, and closed her eyes, wondering that the spray of the sea could lay wet upon her cheeks when there was no wind.

"Forgive me, Lady, I did not mean to make you weep," Boromir whispered, his voice shaking.

"Do I weep?" Arwen asked with a weak laugh, opening her eyes and staring into Boromir's, which lay so close now to her own. His skin, even in this strange place, felt warm against her own. She turned a little, so that her cheek brushed his, and gave a shaky sigh. "You are human, my love," she said softly. "You are as I have vowed to be. We have all been tempted, and if you had not been the one to try, I am certain that another of our Fellowship would."

"Do you think that he can still love me?" Boromir asked, so soft that his breath barely touched her skin, for all that she was still so close.

Arwen gave a shaky smile, though her voice broke with a sob as she answered. "If he cannot, then there is no hope for me, either, for he will find me a mortal woman, too."

Boromir put his arms around her as she wept, and though he was silent, his breathing came harshly, and she could not guess if all the tears on their cheeks might belong to her.

When she had finally slowed in her weeping, and they had both fallen silent at last, he stroking her back soothingly and she whispering soft songs, they heard some movement. The doors of the Hall, she suddenly knew, were opening, and they stood, and kissed once more, and each gave a shaky laugh, knowing what a picture they must make.

He took her hand in his own, and they turned to face the Hall, and she found herself looking into the eyes of Mandos.

Boromir squeezed her hand. There was cold fog all around them, smelling of the sea. These were the choices that they had made, and these were the paths that they had taken, and she would not turn back now, for all that the way on was dark and shrouded in mist.

Arwen opened her mouth.


End file.
